Dead and Gone- Summoned All the Same
by alchemyfreak42
Summary: Father Fujimoto never told Yukio about the twin brother who died as a baby. Yukio never tried summoning. The Monster had never bothered to hope for escape- until he found himself being cared for by people wearing his captors' colors. He didn't trust this to be reality, he'd take the break even if it was a psychological attack.
1. The Summoning

**Blue Exorcist is not mine,**

 **Even if I wish**

 **I could own all animes.**

 **-Alchemyfreak42**

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"Have you ever tried summoning, Mr. Okumura?"

When Yukio shook his head, Bon frowned thoughtfully.

"I thought it was required for all exwires?"

"That's because summoning is a fairly rare ability," Yukio explained, "But when I began my training there was a need for exorcists of all types, so it wasn't necessary."

"Well, why not try it now?" Izumo suggested.

"Yeah!" Shima exclaimed, "You have the best ide-"

"Shut up, pervert," She interrupted.

"It wouldn't be a problem, would it?" Konekomaru put in, ignoring his friend's antics. "You're the youngest exorcist ever, after all- if you summoned anything dangerous you could take care of it no problem."

"You all want me to try?" Yukio asked, sighing as the students all nodded eagerly. "Fine, then."

"There's a time for everything," He muttered, swiping a bloody finger across a piece of paper- then jerking backward as the paper began sparking with electricity, smoke puffing out fitfully as it settled on the ground.

"Everyone get out!" He ordered, watching carefully as a figure took shape inside the smoke, hunched over and breathing heavily. He glanced in the direction of the paper- too far, and still sparking dangerously- and settled on drawing his gun as the class hurried to the door- too slowly.

The bent figure finished forming, its silhouette ominous as the smoke cleared to reveal something that made Bon stop in the doorway to begin swearing and the ever-composed Yukio gasp out loud in shock.

"What the hell?" Bon asked, staring in confusion.

"I don't know," Yukio said, moving forward slowly and putting his gun carefully back in its holster, "I've never seen anything like this before. Close the door." He added the last part absentmindedly- Bon had already seen, but none of the other students needed to.

The idea of dismissing the demon in front of him flitted into and out of his mind as quickly as sparks from a fire, scattered in the wind. Wherever this demon had come from was unlike any other he'd heard of- what demons would harm their own, let alone an one so powerful it was nearly indistinguishable from an ordinary human?

Something about this demon was off, and he felt a squirming suspicion that this wasn't the work of demons. He hoped to heaven this wasn't just someone with some demon blood in them, but it didn't seem likely.

The boy- for all appearances, it _was_ a boy- in the middle of the room collapsed to the ground with a quiet, tired groan. He didn't make another noise though, only watched with dull, frightened eyes as Yukio cautiously approached to kneel beside him.

He still flinched back, though, when Yukio reached out to the boy laying curled on the ground in nothing but a pair of shorts.

"Tsk," Yukio murmured gently, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy didn't answer, watching fearfully as Yukio turned him gently onto his back, uncurling him to see too-visible ribs spotted with bruises in varying stages, cuts and scabs that were clearly infected, and even burn marks. There were dozens of scars from old wounds, too, and all the signs indicating years' worth of abuse.

His breaths were ragged, shallow things that grated against Yukio's ears, his eyes wary and fearful as they tracked his movements.

"Bon, get me a cup of water," Yukio said, "Don't let anyone know about this." He noted the stiffening of the boy's emaciated body, the fear in his eyes at something he'd said, maybe all of it.

The beefy boy nodded solemnly and slipped out the door, leaving him alone with an insanely powerful demon- that was completely helpless.

"Can you speak?" He asked.

"Yes," the boy rasped.

"How much demon blood is in you?" He asked. The boy only frowned at him, his dark eyes hazy with confusion. "Are you a full demon or only a descendant?" He clarified.

"Don't-" The boy broke off, coughing roughly and spitting a glob of blood before he continued, "dunno. They just call me _monster."_

" _Who?"_ Yukio's stomach clenched uncomfortably, something cold clamping itself into existence around his intestines.

Surprise flitted across the boy's face.

"You need to ask?" The ice in his stomach grew larger as the boy considered him, then spoke again. "You wear their symbol."

"How long?" Yukio asked, bracing himself.

"Dunno," the boy shrugged, "Forever."

Yukio forced himself to close his eyes briefly and breathe shallowly to control the urge to be sick, to go on a rampage against the Church and shove this experience into their faces, demand to know what the hell they were thinking when they did this.

"Here."

Bon's voice jerked him back into reality, his eyes snapping open to see the student and wonder how he'd missed the door opening and closing.

Yukio nodded and carefully lifted the boy's shoulders, allowing Bon to hold the cup to his lips, which he sealed shut and turned away. Bon frowned in confusion, but Yukio took a careful, shaky breath at the thought that the Church would trick someone- even if it was a demon- into _drinking_ holy water.

It was confirmation that there was indeed demonic blood in the boy, though. (As if there'd been doubt after he'd shown up in a summoning circle).

"This- this isn't holy water," Yukio managed to say, watching the boy's mouth twitch in amusement.

"Think I'm-" He broke off to cough again, "-going to believe that?"

Yukio frowned, then glanced at Bon.

"Put a drop on his hand," he instructed, holding the demon boy down as he writhed- he was surprisingly strong, given the prominence of every bone in him and the shallowness of his cheeks- as Bon carefully allowed a drop of water to fall on bare skin.

The boy's body was rigid, his eyes breathing quick and panicked as he prepared himself to be tortured. Yukio's heart bled as he realized that this boy had been conditioned to fear water, the most important substance to life.

The boy cracked an eye open after a moment, watching the water sit innocently on his arm. Some of the tension bled slowly from his shoulders and he looked suspiciously at Yukio. The question of whether the boy's captors had played mind games- proving it wasn't holy water and then swapping it out to torture the demon-

Yukio shook his head and nodded to Bon again. This time, the boy accepted the water even as his shoulders grew rigid again and he had to obviously force himself to drink. Yukio wondered how little they gave him, if he was desperate enough that he would risk poisoning himself just for a taste.

It occurred to him that he had a class standing outside his door, waiting to find out what had happened. Yukio lay the boy back down again and stood, walked to the door, slipped out.

"Class is dismissed for today," He said, "Do not tell anyone- and I mean _anyone_ \- what happened today. If you do, I will personally ensure that you fail, are expelled, and can never become exorcists. Am I understood?"

He met each of their eyes, waited for them to nod, to understand that this was _serious_ , before allowing them to leave. He wished he could have told them he'd simply failed, the demon had gone insane and messed up the classroom, but he knew that wasn't possible. He'd been inside alone for too long, and Bon had come out for a cup of water. The best he could hope was that they would keep their mouths shut and wait for a better explanation later.

He reentered the classroom and shut it carefully behind him.

"I need to make a phone call," He told Bon quietly, "Don't let anyone in until I return, and keep an eye on him."

He turned to leave, then he felt like a fool and turned back. "What's your name?"

Something crossed the boy's face before it was hidden away.

"I told you, they call me _monster._ "

"You don't have another name?" Yukio asked, unable to hide the grief in his voice or the pain he felt when the boy only snorted derisively. He nodded silently and left the room, pulling his phone from his pocket.

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"Did you know?"

"It's one thing to kill demons, another to torture them. I've fought for years to stop them capturing demons, but if I'd known about something like this I would have torn down the entire Vatican," his father said, shaking his head, "and they know it, too. That's likely why they never told me."

Yukio allowed relief to wash over him at his father's response, his eyes softening.

"This is- I've never seen anything like it," Yukio said.

He took a breath and knocked on the door, waiting until Bon pulled it open to lead the way inside. The boy was laying on the ground, now covered with a blanket from the emergency kit and Bon's jacket rolled like a pillow beneath his head. The boy snapped his eyes open, watching him warily and keeping his eyes on Yukio.

"This is my father," Yukio said, waving a hand at the older man, dressed in civilian jeans and a t-shirt. "He's going to help us."

" _Right."_ The boy's voice was cold, betrayed.

"Oh, _Lord,_ " Yukio could hear the tears in his father's voice, "I'm so sorry, child."

Fujimoto walked forward slowly, holding his hands out to either side as he knelt beside the frail boy whose eyes hadn't left him for a moment.

"Will you allow me to take you to my home? I'll be able to protect you there, hide you from the Church."

"Why?"

"Because you are too young to deserve this," Fujimoto said gently, "You are a child, not a monster."

The boy's breath caught in his throat and he stared at the old man for a long minute before he nodded roughly. Yukio smiled quietly. Having seen the boy's suspicion, Yukio couldn't believe that this boy believed his freedom, but he _could_ believe the boy was willing to take advantage of the reprieve.

"How did you get here?" Fujimoto asked, receiving a shrug in reply. He looked at Yukio questioningly.

"I summoned him."

Surprise flicked across Fujimoto's face and he looked at the boy with new intensity, then asked hesitantly, "Child, what is your name?"

"Don't have one," The boy said, his face flickering oddly again.

"Are you sure?" Yukio's father pressed, "Does the name _Rin_ mean anything to you? Anything at all? Is it even _familiar_?"

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, and Yukio frowned. Why did his father know this boy's- this demon's name?

"Rin?" His father asked hopefully, "Rin, is it really you?"

The boy shrugged warily, flinching hard when Fujimoto surged forward to embrace him.

"I've found you," He murmured, "I've found you!"

"Father?" Yukio asked hesitantly. He glanced at the boy- Rin, apparently- who looked just as confused.

His dad looked up, smiling through the tears in his eyes and beckoned Yukio closer.

"I thought you were dead," His dad told the boy, smiling so brightly it had to hurt. He turned to Yukio, then, and changed his whole world.

"Yukio, let me introduce you to your twin brother, Rin."

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Yukio watched the demon- Rin- his _brother_ \- as he moved carefully about the kitchen.

The boy- his brother, he reminded himself again- still flinched at loud noises and unfamiliar voices, at the sight or mention of medical supplies or doctors, had trouble drinking water because he was always afraid it was purified.

Yukio didn't think it would ever go away. He thought that maybe those ribs and cheekbones would always be just as prominent, that the boy would always have to drink flavored water or juice to prevent panic attacks.

How could one get rid of a lifetime's worth of conditioning, of fear? He couldn't even be angry at the fact that this had been hidden from him, kept quiet. How could he resent the knowledge that his birth father was Satan when he hadn't even inherited his power and the one who _had_ was standing here flinching at the sight of _a wet fork?_

He couldn't hate his brother for being the son of Satan. How do you hate someone for their lineage when you share it and it's brought them so much suffering, anyway?

He couldn't hate his father for not telling him about the brother he'd been too young to remember. He'd thought Rin was dead, and when do you tell a boy, _by the way, you're half demon but don't have any powers because they went to your twin brother who's dead, except nevermind- he's just being tortured by the Vatican._

He couldn't even hate the Church. How do you hate them for doing what they thought was right and would ultimately save many, many lives?

And yet he resented them- all of them- because _he had a right to know_ , and _the blood of a monster_ , and _how the hell could you do this to an innocent child, no matter where the blood came from?_

"Can you wash the carrots?"

Yukio nodded and shifted to the sink, watching as his brother carefully avoided that area as he moved to a specific drawer to get one of the specially colored knives they'd gotten because Rin had discovered a love of the kitchen but couldn't stand the sight of the silver blades.

His heart clenched again at the knowledge that something so mundane could send his brother into a full-blown panic attack.

His stomach twisted once more as he thought about how easy it would have been for him to spend his life in captivity, too.

It had been months since he'd summoned Rin, and his twin was slowly, slowly, beginning to believe that Yukio wasn't some cruel trick, that the idea of a home wasn't another mind game.

Dinner was ready soon, and Yukio found himself smiling at the admittedly mediocre taste, humming cheerfully as he did the dishes (Rin could hardly brush his teeth, let alone soak his arms to the elbows). He finished and went back to their room, hands in his pockets as he wondered where their father had gotten off to.

On second thought, where the hell was Rin?

He hurried through the house again, searching each room as he looked in vain for the dark-haired boy. Had someone found out and snuck in, stealing Rin away while he was distracted?

He would think that Rin might have gone for a walk, or to the backyard, except that Rin couldn't even get to the entryway without panicking.

He ran his hands through his hair, still damp from the dishes. He needed to contact his father, he might know more. Yukio reached into his pocket to get his phone, brushing against a piece of paper instead.

Horror dawned on him as he realized what he'd done, grasped the paper with shaking fingers and pulled it out to find a smudged, damp circle in his hands.

The next minutes were filled with terror, his hands shaking as he tried to get the summoning circle right, finally, _finally_ managing it and calling out the words that filled the room with smoke as they had a lifetime ago. Suddenly his brother was curled in a ball in the middle of the room, his face filled with terror and his arms held defensively over his head, already bleeding and cut. Holy Water burns covered his bare skin- his shirt had been taken, it seemed, and his pants were torn and bloody.

" _Rin!"_ He cried in relief, stopping short when his brother flinched back from him in terror.

He froze, then carefully slowed down, held his hands out the way he'd learnt to so that Rin wouldn't run away, would know he wasn't going to hurt him.

Rin looked up hesitantly, fearfully, and Yukio's heart tore when he asked in a small voice, "Why did you send me back?"

That was the day that Yukio realized that Rin's paper was far too vulnerable and traced it over in waterproof ink onto waterproof paper, then slipped it into a glass case just for good measure.

It still took too long to regain Rin's trust.

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 **A pretty straightforward fic, based on the idea I've seen of Rin being summoned by Yukio. In this, the Vatican captured Rin as a child and told Fujimoto he'd been killed. Blue Exorcist isn't mine.**

 **Peace.**


	2. The Mind-Game of 'Life'

**No one saw my nice haiku**

 **So I made one more**

' **Cause poetry I adore.**

 **-Alchemyfreak42**

 **This really only came around because so many people asked for another chapter- it was intended to be a one-shot, but everyone was so excited I managed to drag this from the pits of my mind. I kind of have an idea for a third chapter too, but unless I can improve it drastically I probably won't be posting it- I refuse to add sub-par material onto one of my stories, particularly ones as good as this one (even I admit this is one of my better creations).**

 **For those of you who wanted an extra chapter to '** _ **For the Sake of His Life**_ **,** _ **'**_ **there won't be another chapter coming for the same reason I might not add the third chapter on this one- I couldn't get anything good out, and I'm not going to add anything bad. For when the muses are silent, what can we do but weep?**

 **Carry on, my wayward sons.**

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Where was he?

He'd been in the Arena just a moment ago, crying out as the Naberius apologized, as they always did ( _Forgive me, Young Master, I only do as my Summoner commands)._ Sometimes they even called him by a human name, Rin. To all others he was simply _monster_ or _Son of Satan_ or _demon_. The 'Son of Satan' was relatively new. He wasn't sure what it meant, but They'd only started calling him that after someone had burst into flames, after They'd pushed him too far.

He wasn't sure why They were amazed at the sight of _blue_ flames, though. It was the only color of flame he'd ever seen, except maybe Before; but he couldn't really remember that time well, anyway.

His mind was drifting.

That meant it'd been too long without food, again, that he was probably going to-

Sure enough, the floor was slamming against his chin, his teeth _clacking_ together. He curled to protect his stomach- he'd learned over the years that coughing blood was worse than an aching back- from the abuse that was sure to come, and couldn't help the quiet groan.

He still didn't know where he was, did he? Damn hunger- it stole away what little focus he could muster on even the best of days, leaving his mind a wandering mess.

Someone was walking toward him- an exorcist with black hair and glasses, his face serious.

Monster flinched when he reached out, then silently cursed himself for showing that weakness and forced himself not to resist when the exorcist turned him on his back.

The questions he asked made no sense- _How much demon is in you?_ and _Who?_

Why would the exorcist be asking these questions? They knew the answers, even if _he_ didn't. He responded as well as he could, though- he was in no mood to suffer the effects of Their Water again so soon.

They gave him Water anyway- They were making him _drink_ it again, and he fought with the last of his strength to resist. The exorcist looked pissed.

They decided to put it on his skin instead, and-

And it was just water.

He was out of strength anyway, knew that even if They were swapping it out, he'd die if he didn't drink, so he forced himself to accept it even as he prepared himself for the feeling of acid running down his throat.

Damnit, this was going to be one of _those_ games, was it? Where They pretended sympathy and escape, healed him a bit and then tricked him somehow. He would take the physical reprieve- he couldn't deny he needed it- but he resented the mind games more than anything else.

When the exorcist returned with another who claimed they were, all three, family, he knew it was only going to get worse. This was a new mind game, one They'd never played before, and it was going to be the worst one yet.

He couldn't even say no.

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He watched as Yukio and Shiro left the house every day in their exorcists' garb, their holy guns full of silver bullets and grenades with holy water.

He shuddered each time he saw them.

He knew it wasn't going to last- They'd let him out, on occasion, to prove to him that They would always be able to drag him back again, that They would always know his face no matter how far he ran or how long he was out. The longest he'd ever been out was four months, and this stretch had already lasted two and a half.

There was a good chance They just wanted to show him that They could summon him back at any time. If Yukio could do it, why not Them? And what was to say that _Yukio_ wouldn't be the one summoning him back into his cell?

The worst part of it was not knowing. He couldn't prepare himself, because all it would take was for the little piece of paper to be torn, or smudged.

He couldn't know how or when They would take him back. He couldn't prepare himself.

It meant he would have no warning, not even enough time to cry out in surprise or rage, to demand to know why they would play out this farce for so long.

But then, They might decide to take him back by force just to prove the point. Maybe Yukio and Shiro would help- they were exorcists, after all, and that was what exorcists did.

Would Yukio or Shiro bring the others to him, watch as They dragged him back? Would They storm the place while the people who called themselves family pretended to cower or fight back? Or would he simply blink in the cozy little church one moment only to find himself back in that cold, white cell the next?

Hell, (hah), maybe They would even start playing with his mind while he was still here. Slip some holy water in a bottle, maybe even color it to look like what Shiro had started to get him so he didn't panic as much. Bless one of the spoons and watch him try to eat with it. All They had to do was put some silver dust on his pillow or blanket, even, and he'd be writhing in agony the moment he lay down to sleep.

This game could go on indefinitely, but he wasn't going to be the one to end it. He'd take the break from physical torture even if it meant he was constantly checking his surroundings. He did that, anyway. He always had, since the day he'd woken up in a strange place with people asking ' _what are your powers?'_ and ' _how strong are you, really?'_

Shiro said he'd lived here before that, but he didn't believe it. They were exorcists. Hunting, studying, destroying demons was what They did.

He was getting better at hiding his reactions from Yukio, at least. The guy- boy? Man?- always looked at him with that complicated expression when he flinched, and he was sure They were just waiting for him to let his guard down.

It wasn't going to happen.

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How long was this going to go on?

How long would the charade last, he wondered? He knew his guard was beginning to drop, and it was like watching from afar as disaster came. He could do nothing.

He couldn't leave- all they had to do was summon him again, or even just tear the paper. It was, perhaps, the nightmares that Yukio hadn't told him about that were eroding his suspicion. Yukio thought he didn't know, but how could he _not?_ Whenever Yukio was home for the weekend or a 'holiday,' It was impossible not to hear his name whimpered from the other bed or ignore the way Yukio always checked to make sure he was still there afterwards.

It was hard not to believe the urgent whispers to _stay quiet, they can't know you're here_ as they hid him in the room beneath the altar once more.

He never missed the relief when Yukio ran, panting, into the living room on weekend mornings or after a week at school and caught sight of him, his body relaxing as though a burden had been lifted.

He couldn't forget the gentleness in Shiro's eyes whenever he saw Monst - _Rin-_ in the kitchen, or the inexplicable joy so visible as the older man shoveled down the barely-edible food he kept making.

They even stocked the kitchen with colored knives and as many cookbooks as he could convince Yukio to read to him.

He hated himself for letting down his guard, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't help but think _maybe this is real_ as Shiro explained what a birthday was and helped him learn to read.

Even the other members of the little church seemed to accept him, would stiffen and shift in front of him at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

He hated how easy it was to believe that they were serious.

He hated the knowledge that it wasn't going to last even more.

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Sure enough, it wasn't permanent.

It didn't last.

He wanted to curse himself for ever letting himself think otherwise, even if he'd never fully trusted it. He wanted to swear and scream, but he didn't have time or breath for that because that was a pack of Ghouls in dogs' bodies running at him as he stood in the bottom of the Arena trying to gain his bearings.

They were on him before he could think, before he could run, and it was all he could do to rely on his instincts and protect his face and stomach even as the ghouls bit into his arms, his sides, his legs. His shirt had fallen to the ground and he could only be grateful he hadn't been farther along in his nightly routine.

There were voices now, some of them familiar from years of experiments, and then the ghouls were gone and he was being splashed with holy water as They demanded to know where he'd been, how he'd gotten out.

All he could think was _make it stop_ and _whywhywhy_ and _they lied to me_ as he struggled to breathe despite the agony of his already-broken ribs.

He had no way of knowing how long he'd been back, only knew that They were coming at him with staffs and bats and shouting that he was too dangerous to let live any longer as the bats swung down-

He was engulfed in steam, flinching in anticipation of the burns he would be getting from both the heat and the blessed water. There were no more voices or barking ghouls, no more sand beneath his feet or the stench of blood.

He looked up slowly, jerking back when someone rushed at him, only recognizing it was Yukio when he froze and held his hands spread out low, unthreatening, and spoke softly.

"Why did you send me back?"

He couldn't help it. He'd finally been starting to trust them, and then he'd been back in the Arena. He'd known it was going to happen, but it still felt like betrayal.

He was trembling, and he flinched at Yukio's gentle touch as his brother guided him carefully down the hall to treat his wounds.

That night he screamed himself awake, fell off the bed when he realized there was someone standing over him, and cried when he realized it was only Yukio.

He spent another several months unable to walk outside because the ground was covered in sandy dirt, longer flinching whenever he heard the sound of a dog barking across the street.

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"Rin, are you ready?"

He nodded, stiffly. He had to do this. He didn't want to. He needed to. This was important. He couldn't spend his life afraid of going outside, had to be able to take care of himself. Hadn't he once considered running away from this little church, living in the world he was so terrified of now?

He put on the shoes Yukio was letting him borrow, grabbed the crutch he used because his leg had never healed quite right after that last trip Back, when a demon had been waiting for him and shattered his knee before Yukio could get a circle right.

He was still wary of the world, of exorcists in general except the ones he lived with. He was still twitchy, caught between fear and fury when something caught him by surprise.

Sometimes he was all glares, threatening and willing to fight to the death- others, he was fleeing before he could think about what the danger even was.

He touched the pendant around his neck to make sure it was still there, hadn't shattered. Yukio had come up with the idea of a titanium charm in the shape of a summoning circle after that last one, while they'd both still been panicking in the hospital. Now, he wouldn't go Back unless something managed to destroy his pendant or they physically dragged him away.

That would be tough now, with a church full of monks watching his back, on top of Rin's developing power of setting things on fire- he was still working on controlling it, but it was going to be _very_ useful next time there was an incident- and Shi-his _father's_ cat Sidhe that seemed to have adopted him watching constantly.

The cat- Kuro- was an enormous sense of comfort, he thought as he scratched the creature's head. He was a constant reminder that M- _Rin_ \- was free.

Yukio was going to take him to the market to get supplies for dinner after they got a couple of learners' books. He was still struggling with letters, and knew next to nothing about history, math- anything scholarly, really. He could figure his way around a kitchen, but that was pretty straightforward, even if he did keep using the wrong spices because he couldn't figure out the labels.

He shuffled toward the door, breathing quickly and forcing himself not to sprint back into his room. He needed to get out. He _had_ to be able to. He pulled his hat low over his eyes, tucked his tail in tight. Sunglasses were in place.

His hands were shaking, his eyes darting in both directions as he searched for Them- surely They were there, watching, but They wouldn't have been so angry if they knew where he was.

"Do you need to stay here?"

Yukio was watching him quietly from the entryway, the door held open to show the painful brightness beyond.

He shook his head frantically- he had to be able to manage this, could surely do it… it was just going to take some work.

His chest still shuddering, he clenched his eyes and stepped out into the light.

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 **-BY THE WAY: MOST (not all- everyone makes mistakes) grammatical errors in this story are intentional, and a result of the character's frame of mind. It's meant to be read as stream-of-consciousness type thing, so it might take a little getting used to.**

 **-In this chapter, I'm using capital-T-Them to indicate the Vatican and Rin's captors- that's how he thinks of 'Them.'**

 **Last chapter** _ **FlightfootKeyseeker**_ **asked why Rin was being tortured, because "** I understand experimenting on him, but it seems like cold-blooded torture wouldn't get them anything." **I explained in a PM, but I expect a couple other readers will also like to know the answer:**

 **First, a lot of the experiments would also qualify as torture- testing new weapons, his pain tolerance, capabilities, etc. Second, the Vatican views Rin as a monster, not a person, and there are a lot of people (like Neuhaus) who would want to inflict the same pain on Rin that Satan inflicted on** _ **them**_ **. There would be people who wouldn't participate, but not many people would actually say something and risk being seen as a sympathizer.**

 **Also, starvation works as a method to keep him weak, since once he unlocks his demonic abilities he'll be crazy strong. Spraying him with Holy Water also keeps him weak and restricts his healing abilities (starvation also limits his healing), while** _ **letting**_ **him go puts it into his head that they always know where he is, they're strong enough to bring him back every time. If he thinks it's always intentional, he'll never trust his escape, and could eventually give up.**

 **I always enjoy getting feedback, though nowadays I don't hold my stories hostage. Feel free to review or not, or check out my other stories- I've got one more Blue Exorcist fic already posted ('For the Sake of His Life'), and I may be publishing a short Blue Ex/Harry Potter in the near future.**


	3. Allergies and Spontaneous Combustion

**My poems are invisible**

 **My stanzas unseen**

 **Would Sokka have better luck?**

 **-Alchemyfreak 42**

 **As you can see, I've figured out the third chapter. Read on!**

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Bon watches the kid all day, trying to figure him out. He's lanky and thin, with dark hair that falls into his eyes- he doesn't brush it away. Instead, he leans back in his chair, seeming to pay more attention to the people in the class than its subject matter.

He is on edge.

He's been here all day, though, and none of the teachers have said anything since he walked in with Mr. Okumura this morning. Is he new?

Bon allows himself to wonder as he scribbles notes on sacred verses.

"Can you read the passage for us?"

The teacher is asking the new kid, and he blinks at her before shaking his head.

"Sorry." It's as much as he's said all day, and it makes Bon wants to hit him. This is a school, a place for learning. If he doesn't want to learn, he should leave. The teacher frowns, but calls on Shima instead. The boy continues to watch.

Bon grinds his teeth- this kid shouldn't _be_ here, if he won't read a simple passage or even just put on his uniform right. He grudgingly allows that the boy maybe should stay seated- there is a crutch leaning against the table beside the boy- but that shouldn't impair his ability to read or get dressed. He doesn't even have his textbook on the table, let alone _open_.

When Mr. Okumura comes in, he glances over and seems relieved that the boy is still here. Is the kid here of his own will, then? Bon can't imagine that it is anything else, though, as he doubts anyone would force him to come unwillingly.

Finally, after the kid won't pay attention to the youngest exorcist _ever_ , Bon loses his temper.

"Look," he snarls, "Why the hell are you here? You obviously don't care."

The kid doesn't answer, and at first Bon thinks he is ignoring him and feels his blood begin to boil again. Then he notices how wide the kid's eyes are, how fast and short his breathing.

He backs up a bit, thinking he is simply frightened.

"Woah, man, chill out."

The boy doesn't even turn to look at him, and he is gasping for air now, obviously struggling.

"Sir!" Bon cries, well aware that _something is wrong_. "Sir, we need some help, here- something's wrong!"

"Shit!"

At first he thinks he has heard wrong- Mr. Okumura has never sworn, not even in their first year when they were ambushed and far from help- but when he looks up, Mr. Okumura's face is open and _frightened_. He has never seen Mr. Okumura _scared_ before- hardly seen the man express _any_ emotion, but he is an open book and leaping over the desk and bolting across the room.

Several yards away, Mr. Okumura slows to a cautious walk and orders everyone to leave the room in a voice that is as calm and quiet and forced as anything Bon has ever heard.

Bon stays. Whatever this is, he started it, and it is his responsibility to help.

"Is he having a panic attack?" Bon asks. The kid came with Mr. Okumura, so logically the teacher should know _something_.

"No," Mr. Okumura says as he reaches carefully for the boy's wrist, "No, this one's different."

Bon catches that- _this one_ \- the boy has panic attacks, then.

Mr. Okuura is frowning, looks worried, and that is when the boy's eyes roll into his head and he falls sideways out of his seat.

"Rin!" Mr. Okumura cries, catching the boy and lowering him to the floor as he shudders and thrashes- it has escalated to a seizure, and Bon wants to swear, too. "Damnit! You are _not_ dying on me!"

Bon hurries to join them and help hold the boy down so he doesn't hurt himself, but the boy is shockingly strong.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this were poison," Mr. Okumura says, grunting as Bon loses his grip and one of the boy's arms lashes out.

"An allergic reaction to something?" Bon asks, thinking fast. It's basically the same thing, right?

"He doesn't have any al-" Mr. Okumura's face pales as he realizes something, and he curses again as he begins frantically working at the boy's jacket, "shit, you're _right_ , help me get his clothes off."

Bon nods and they start working to keep the boy from injuring anyone while they get his jacket and shirt unbuttoned- when they do, his chest and arms are covered by an angry rash. It takes another long struggle to get the pants off, and finally Mr. Okumura hurries to grab a cloth and water bottle from his bag before carefully wiping the boy down. It takes only a minute after he finishes for the boy to stop shaking and go limp.

Bon leans against the desk behind him with a relieved sigh. He glances at the boy again- how can someone so thin be so-

His mind goes blank as he stares in horror at the thick mat of scar tissue covering the boy's body. Regardless of the sheer _number_ of scars, they are nearly all _old_. The boy can't be more than a year or two younger than Bon, and his stomach twists at the implications.

"What- what the hell-?" Bon can't finish his question, he is too horrified.

Mr. Okumura looks at him sympathetically and shakes his head without answering.

"You should go into the hall. Tell the others class is dismissed for today."

Bon forces a nod and obeys robotically, telling Shima to bring a change of clothes before he closes the door again and sits heavily in a chair. He knows he should leave, but he needs to gather himself before he can go out and tell anyone what happened.

'Are you alright?" Mr. Okumura asks, and Bon hesitates before he nods uncertainly. It is like three years ago, when a boy somehow appeared in a summoning circle looking like something out of the World War II section of a history book. He breathes slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and doesn't look up until there is a quiet grunt from the unconscious boy.

His eyes flicker beneath their lids at first, and his fingers twitch a bit. Then his eyes snap open and he is the very image of a wary creature checking its surroundings before moving.

When his eyes land on Bon, they narrow and the boy twists to crouch awkwardly on one leg. His eyes are cold and his mouth a grim line as he throws a hand out-

"Rin!" Mr. Okumura barks sharply.

The boy's eyes narrow even farther and his head snaps over to Mr. Okumura.

"Why the hell do you kn-"

"Look around, Rin," Mr. Okumura orders. "You're out; you're safe, here."

" _Bull_ ," Rin snarls, "You're both e-"

" _Look at me, Rin."_ Mr. Okumura says, "Look at my face. _Think._ "

The boy watches him warily for a long minute.

"Do you recognize me, yet?"

"Yukio." It's halfway between a statement and a question, and Bon now understands why Mr. Okumura didn't think it was a panic attack earlier. He jerks his head at Bon. "Who's he?"

"One of my students," Mr. Okumura explains, and the boy looks at him warily. "Don't worry, he's alright."

"What happened?"

The boy's questions are brusque, and he still hasn't relaxed, seems to be waiting for something. (Nothing good, Bon thinks).

"An allergic reaction. The uniforms here are infused with silver to help ward off demons. Rather unfortunate for you, and how did you even _get_ one, anyway?"

The boy blinks and shrugs, says one of 'the guys' got it for him, and that is that. Mr. Okumura relaxes a bit and shakes his head, says to tell him next time there's a problem.

"Didn't realize there was one," Rin says with a shrug.

"How the hell do you _not_ _realize_ when you're having a reaction that severe?" Bon demands, and wants to just gag himself. For all his brainpower, the damn thing never manages to stop his mouth.

The boy just looks at him flatly.

"Just felt normal." He says.

Bon's attention slides to the Rin's scars again, and he realizes that with that sort of damage, of _course_ he wouldn't have noticed something like that. His nausea returns abruptly, and he can't make it to the trashcan in the corner of the room before he retches violently.

"What- what kind of _bastards-_ "

He can't finish the question, because he is vomiting again, this time into the trashcan Mr. Okumura has grabbed for him. When he finishes and looks up, Rin is giving him an odd look he can't quite read. Mr. Okumura distracts him from trying by handing him a bottle of water and waiting for him to drink.

"Better?"

Bon nods quietly, and they stand awkwardly for a minute or two before a knock at the door startles them all. Rin is instantly on alert again, and even Mr. Okumura looks wary as Bon crosses to the door.

"Bon?"

It's Shima, with the clothes for Rin, and Bon nods gratefully at his roommate, says they can talk later, and closes the door once more. He tosses them to Rin, who catches them and looks at them curiously.

"Told Shima to bring over a change of clothes," He says, and Rin blinks at him in surprise, then nods his thanks.

When they are leaving, Rin pauses at the door and frowns at him.

"Have we met?" The boy asks, frowning.

"Don't think so," Bon shrugs. He's got a good memory.

Rin shrugs and follows Mr. Okumura away.

That night, Bon dreams of being thrown into a coliseum with demons as a crowd roars in excitement. When Shima asks, he can only shake his head silently.

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Rin doesn't come back.

It is explained that he was just here for the day and was allergic to something in the material of his clothes, and the rest of the class forgets about him and resumes their studies.

Bon, however, can't stop thinking about the kid, wondering what kind of people could do that to a _child_. To anyone, really. He thinks about the boy's wariness throughout the day and wonders how long it would have taken for anyone to notice if Bon hadn't lost his temper.

Would he have died?

Shima's clothes come back by way of Mr. Okumura, who thanks them for their generosity. Shima just shrugs and heads off to his next class, but Bon lingers, wondering about the boy.

"Um. Do you think it would be alright it I… visited him?" He asks, feeling awkward. He doubts the kid gets out much, if he was so close to losing it in a classroom, and he wants to learn about this boy so he can prevent something like this from happening to anyone else.

Mr. Okumura stares at him for a moment before smiling a little.

"I'll ask him, if you like," He says, "But Rin is pretty wary around new people, so there's a good chance he'll say no."

Bon shrugs and nods. He gets it. With a story like that, it'd be weird if the kid _weren't_ paranoid.

A week later, Mr. Okumura says that Rin has agreed to let Bon come over if Bon will help cook a little. Bon agrees, and they decide that Bon will visit Rin on a weekend.

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"Shouldn't it be 'thime?'? Rin asks, frowning at the cookbook. "That's a 'th.'"

"Yeah," Bon says, "But it's a weird word. It's pronounced 'time.'"

"That doesn't make any sense," Rin says, rubbing his eyes. "I hate this."

"You'll get it," Bon says, "Everyone does eventually. Anyway, it probably comes from a different language. A lot of the weird ones do."

"What's the point of having _this_ language if it just uses words from _other_ languages?" Rin asks, exasperated.

Bon laughs.

"Dunno," he says, "Never really thought about it. Anyway, are we going to actually cook, or just look at the recipe all day?"

Rin scowls, obviously unhappy about the lesson being cut short, but nods. They both know that Bon can't come over on weekdays, so they have a limited time to figure out how the recipes and start cooking. For someone who's only able to cook when he can get help to read recipes and labels, cut and wash the vegetables, Rin is a surprisingly good cook.

Admittedly, he does have a tendency to mix up the spices, but he does alright for someone who can hardly read.

"So what's your shirt?" Rin asks, and Bon glances down.

"It's a band called _Skillet_ ," he says, "They have pretty good music. Wanna listen to one of their songs while we make the stew?"

Rin shrugs, so Bon flips through his phone to pull up one of their songs, humming along to the opening bars as he starts washing the carrots. Rin is quiet beside him as the words begin.

 _The secret side of me, I never let you see  
I keep it caged but I can't control it  
So stay away from me, the beast is ugly  
I feel the rage and I just can't hold it_

Bon continues to hum as the song plays, wondering what Rin thinks of it. It's a cool song, he figures Rin'll probably like it. He's working on peeling a potato when the chorus begins.

 _I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun  
I must confess that I feel like a monster_

He feels Rin go rigid beside him and wonders why, glancing over to make sure the boy isn't having another panic attack. He's learned over the past several weeks that Rin tends to have them, particularly when they're working at the sink.

 _My secret side I keep hid under lock and key  
I keep it caged but I can't control it-_

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Rin asks, and his voice is as low and as dangerous as it gets. Bon is in trouble, and he knows it, but he's got no clue how it happened.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, allowing the confusion to show on his face.

"I _really_ don't like mind games," Rin growls, and Bon is well aware that the knife in his hand is used to cut meats.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bon says, and Rin scowls.

 _I, I feel like a monster  
I, I feel like a-_

The phone _explodes_ on the counter, and Bon jerks back in surprise, a cry of surprise escaping him.

"What the _hell?_ "

Bon's attention is stolen and he stares at the phone, bewildered. Had it really just _spontaneously combusted?_

"That's what _I_ want to know." And his attention is back on Rin. "Did _they_ send you? Tell you to mess with my head?"

"Hold on, what are you _talking_ about?" Bon asks, raising his hands and shaking his head. He has no idea what's going on, can't put the pieces together, but something inside of him does, and it doesn't like it. " _Who?"_

"Hah!" Rin barks out a laugh, "Why do you people always have to _ask_ that? It's not like it's a secret you exorcists hate demons."

"But you're not-" Understanding dawns, too late, and Bon feels the pieces snap into place. He realizes, with a twinge of discomfort at the idea, that it's true. "You are, aren't you? You're part demon."

"Give the boy a prize," Rin snarls, then says flatly, "I'm not going back."

"Wha-" Bon freezes, suddenly remembers three years and change ago, when Mr. Okumura summoned a boy. Remembers only a couple of months ago when Rin had appeared in class, had begun seizing in class because his clothes had silver in them, and Bon had discovered the scars using his skin like a canvass. Remembers wondering if the little summoning-circle necklace he has never seen come off was a gift.

He stumbles to the trashcan and vomits.

Rin was tortured by the _Vatican_.

He vomits again.

He thinks Bon wants to take him _back_.

Bon is dry-heaving now, with nothing left to throw up but feeling sick all the same, because _that's not what he's been training for_. He's been training so he can protect the people he loves, save his temple. Find the bastards who did this to Rin and take them down.

He finishes and pants for a minute, glancing over to see Rin watching him warily.

"No," he says roughly, " _No_. Just- just _no_."

It is all he can say, and Rin seems to understand what it is he is trying to say, because he puts down the knife and pulls out a glass, which he fills with kool-aid from the fridge. Another piece of the puzzle snaps into place, and Bon is doubled over the trashcan again before he can register the urge to throw up.

" _Water?_ " He asks.

Rin nods.

Bon accepts the cup as it is offered to him, gulps it down gratefully as he tries to still the trembling in his limbs.

" _Why?_ " Bon asks. Lots of people have demonic heritage- the Vatican hasn't hunted _them_ down.

Rin shrugs.

"Hell if I know," Rin says bitterly. "I'm just the monster, the _demon spawn_."

"Shut up!" The words rip their way out of Bon's mouth before he can stop them, not that he would even want to. He has to resist the urge to punch Rin's lights out as he bellows at him, "Don't you _dare_ say that again!"

"You don't care that I'm a _demon_?" Rin challenges, lifting his chin, "A _monster?_ The 'Son of Satan?'"

That is why the Vatican took him, he thinks. Bon stills as the rage within him turns into the calm in the middle of a storm. _Storm-_ a fire tornado, more like. He scowls.

He is going to kick someone's _ass_ for this.

"Bloodline means shit," he says quietly, "Doesn't give them the right to torture anyone. Don't talk shit about my friends, got it?"

Rin doesn't answer, just looks at him again, and they go back to preparing the stew. It ends up being overcooked and underflavored, but still not as bad as the last attempt was.

The entire thing is tense, and Bon is scowling because he can't stop thinking about what he wants to do about the fact that the Vatican is clearly a great deal more corrupt than he'd ever thought.

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 **I'm gonna keep saying this- I have no idea if another chapter's going to come to me. I thought it was going to be a one-shot, for crying out loud. Now I have an idea for an actual** _ **plot?**_ **-** _ **BLASPHEMY!**_ **(Thanks to FlightfootKeyseeker for that). Until further posts, this story is fine as it is.**

 **If there does end up being another chapter, which I really want because it would be** _ **awesome**_ **, it will likely include Mephisto and a seriously pissed off Shiro Fujimoto revealing to the Vatican** _ **exactly**_ **why they should not continue their 'experiments.'**

再见 我的读人!


	4. Grigori Get A Headache- Named Mephisto

**Hey, folks! Sorry this took so long- it took me ages to figure out what the heck I wanted to do with this chapter, and a bit longer to find the time to actually do it. Hurray for college, right?** _ **Right**_ **? Anyone? No? Anyway, I am at long last satisfied with the final chapter to this fic- one of my better ones, in my opinion- and did anyone notice** _ **I made a happy fic?!**_ **It has a** _ **good ending!**_ **This is practically** _ **unheard of!**_

 **STORY RELATED STUFF: So a couple people commented on the amount of time it took for revenge to happen. A lot of that time was trouble figuring out who exactly was doing torture. Also, on the fact that Bon was still in exorcist classes- I actually did the math to figure this out. From what I can figure, Yukio started training when he was seven, right after Father Fujimoto found him on the playground, and didn't get certified until he was 14 or 15. That's seven or eight years of training. Even if he was in school, keeping it a secret from Rin, and going at a slower rate than ordinary, older students might, I figure that's got to be at least four or five years of regular training. He's able to study at home- and the guy who's teaching him is the freaking Paladin and his** _ **dad**_ **to boot. Which means Yukio can study whenever he wants (let's be real here, Yukio doesn't** _ **need**_ **to spend all his time studying for normal classes; the kid's a genius, and Rin's not interested in studying at all, much less in looking over Yukio's shoulder), has great access to resources, and a great teacher.**

 **Random thought- For anyone who likes AMVs, there's a hilarious one featuring Mephisto in** _ **Friend like Me**_ **. It cracks me up every time I watch it.**

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"Do not _lie_ to us, Mephisto Pheles," the Grigori on the left says softly, manicured fingers tapping impatiently on the arm of her chair. "Tell us what you know about the attack."

"Me? _Lie?"_ Mephisto gasps, clutching his chest in horror, "How could you _possibly_ accuse me of such a thing? I would _never_ lie to the _illustrious_ leaders of the Vatican!"

"Tell us what you know, Faust," The Grigori on the right snaps irritably, and Mephisto plays into the smile he really can't hide.

"Of _course_ I'll tell you what I know," Mephisto declares, bowing low. "I know that the entirety of Gehenna is in an absolute _uproar_ , for one. Now that their Young Prince has escaped his captors and his imprisonment has come to light even here in Assiah, they are _entirely_ displeased with the Vatican. I suspect it will not be long before you have a full scale war on your hands."

"Explain," The Central Grigori says coolly.

"There's nothing _to_ explain," he says, blinking. "Did you think that nearly two decades' worth of torture inflicted upon one of the highest-ranking demons- and an infant, at that- would go unnoticed and unpunished?"

The Grigori shift restlessly, though they say nothing for a long moment. "Are you suggesting-"

"I am _suggesting_ nothing," Mephisto says dryly, "I am _telling_ you. The attack on that research laboratory was only the beginning."

"Did you have anything to do with it? Do you know who attacked the facility?" The Grigori ask, clearly disconcerted.

"Me?" Mephisto asks, drawing back.

"You."

"No, I was not the one who destroyed the sadists you call researchers," Mephisto waves his hand dismissively, a glint in his eyes. "As to the one who _did_ , I can only say I'm _sorely_ disappointed with them."

"You know who it was?" The Grigori on the right asks, just as the one on the left presses,

"Disappointed?"

Mephisto only shrugs and smiles mysteriously to the first question, though he chuckles at the second, sniffing haughtily. "Of course I'm disappointed in them. There were _clearly_ bricks cohesive enough to show where the foundation had been."

The Grigori stare at him, stunned.

"Oh, and our treaty has been officiallyterminated. Kidnapping, torturing, and experimenting on royalty is a _direct_ violation of the terms."

"What are you talking about?" The Left Grigori demands, leaning forward in her chair, clearly restraining herself.

"I _mean_ ," Mephisto says slowly, as though talking to a small child, "That there is perhaps half of a soul between the lot of you, and the rest is nothing but rot and disease. Please consider our alliance terminated and yourselves banned from True Cross."

"You can't do that!" The Grigori on the left shouts, losing her temper and shooting out of her seat. Mephisto simply laughs.

"Can't I? I _run_ True Cross. You should know that, as per your banishment, Keys will no longer work for you."

"You would banish every exorcist from the grounds of True Cross?" The center Grigori asks, a challenge in his voice.

"Of course not," Mephisto scoffs, waving his hand dismissively, "I won't have to. Simply anyone on True Cross grounds who believes that the torture of small children is acceptable and tolerable behavior."

"What are you saying, Faust?" The Grigori almost growls. "Are you trying to start a rebellion?"

"Oh, _no_ ," Mephisto says, smiling widely, "Not at all. _I'm_ not starting _anything._ "

All three Grigori twitch as one.

"On that note, I have an assembly to attend, and _you_ have a riot to deal with." Mephisto waves a hand amicably as he descends the stairs from the platform in the center of the large chamber and walks out. Not a soul moves to stop him.

He hums cheerfully as he continues on his way.

"Hey, Mister!"

He pauses, turning to face the scowling man. "Yes?"

"You know where these Grigori guys are?"

"Just down that hallway, take a left- it'll be at the end of the hall," Mephisto explains, pointing. "Have you heard what they did to that _poor_ child? I saw it on the news just this morning."

"That's why I'm here," The man scowls, motioning to a group of people behind him, all wearing badges and vests. "You aren't in with this lot, then?"

"After that? I would _never_ ," Mephisto declares, shaking his head. "I just finished terminating my… agreement with the Vatican, in fact."

"Good thing, mate," the man says, nodding. "I try to keep away from this sort of group, myself. Bunch of self-righteous bastards."

Mephisto nods and steps lightly down the hallway, resisting the urge to skip as the sounds of angry shouts ring in his ears like the sweetest music he can think of. He owes Shiro a good bottle of whiskey for what he did to that lab, and maybe a few other things besides.

But what would be appropriate thanks for something of this magnitude? Well, Honey Honey Sisters memorabilia certainly couldn't go amiss, and who didn't like good chocolates? Perhaps tickets for a weekend at that resort Shiro had mentioned a few weeks back, as well…

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"Young Master," the demon says, bowing, "Your realm would have you return."

Rin pulls his hat a bit lower and motions for the demon to rise from where he is kneeling on the ground and they begin walking slowly along the paths in the park, as they have done several times before.

This is not the first time Astaroth has visited him, nor will it be the last. And he'll admit, the idea is tempting. The idea of being treated as the royalty he, by all accounts, is? Being able to relax in the knowledge that he lives under the protection of the strongest demons in Gehenna is an idea that he can never simply dismiss.

Yes, he would miss S- his father and Yukio; and yes, it would be very different from living here in Assiah- but he wouldn't have to constantly watch his back for exorcists on the hunt. He wouldn't need to live in fear that he would wake up being tortured. He wouldn't have to wonder if his water had been purified or any of the many, many other things he'd spent his time here thinking about.

On the other hand, though, he _would_ miss his father and Yukio, the first people to _treat_ him like one. He would miss Bon, too- his grumpy best friend who tended to scowl but was fiercely determined to get justice for Rin. He would miss Bon dragging him out to meet his friends and the way everyone teased him as though he were one of their own.

He would miss cooking, and living here, and he would miss the monks. He would miss sukiyaki.

The corner of Rin's mouth tilts upward a bit at that thought, and he huffs a quiet laugh.

"No," he says at last. "No, I like it here. It's… nice."

He quietly didn't mention the fact that if he left, he would be living with the most powerful demon in Gehenna. Which would, in turn, make him a target. Despite his lack of formal schooling, he'd payed attention when his brother or father or Bon told him stories about science or history. Many of which involved assassinations of royalty.

"Your father wishes to meet you," Astaroth says. "He would have his son at his side."

Rin raises an eyebrow at that. Satan is his biological father, true, but Yukio is his brother. Does Satan not consider Yukio his son because of the lack of flames?

"I would not be opposed to visiting at times," He says, finally, "Or is there something preventing that?"

"No, my lord,"Astaroth says, "It can be arranged for you to come and go as you will."

"I'm not signing up to be the Demon Lord or anything, am I?" Rin asks warily. He will always be wary of trusting people. Especially when those people are demons known for their treachery.

"No, my lord. Any duties you take upon yourself will be clearly defined beforehand. Your father has waited many years to have you at his side, and has no wish to do anything that would dissuade you."

"Okay, then."

And they part ways.

In truth, Rin knows that he would not be perfectly safe as the Lord of Hell's son- he is no fool, and members of royal houses have always been subject to assassination. Even if other demons respected his position, the humans certainly wouldn't. Accepting a station as the next ruler of Gehenna would paint an even larger target on his back than he's already got, and he's only ever wished to live his life in peace.

No, he will never accept an official role in Satan's house, though he bears his father no ill will. He simply prefers to avoid the attention of the masses, to fight from the shadows where he will not be seen as easily.

No, he will stay in Assiah, and he will continue to hone his abilities. He will stay here and fight. That's what They had wanted, after all. They'd wanted him to fight, to know what he could do.

They would learn soon enough. They had created a weapon, after all, and no weapon is meant to sit idly by in the midst of war.

The researcher he found never even realized he was there.

"You got the leeks, right?"

"Of course I did," Bon rolls his eyes lightly at his teacher and friend, "Did you get the right meat? We all know _you_ can't cook to save your life."

"It's what was on the list," Yukio says, wrinkling his nose.

"You sure?" Bon squints doubtfully at the meat in Yukio's bag, but shrugs. The guy actually got the right food for once. Yukio only frowns at him, but Bon just chuckles- it isn't nearly as intimidating as it was in his first year with no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Yukio frowns harder.

"Let's just go, there's still a bunch of stuff we need to get ready."

"Yeah, like the Christmas cookies," Bon snarks as he checks his phone for messages. They all take every opportunity to remind Yukio of that attempt at a 'birthday' cake. Izumi already has the balloons, and Shiemi and Konekomaru have managed to pull together a cake. Shima had grabbed gifts, and Father Fujimoto was probably still doing whatever it was he'd said he needed to take care of. Something about looking into a lab in Poland that hadn't been shut down when it was supposed to be.

"Will you let that _go_ already?" Yukio throws his hands up in the air and groans.

"Never," Bon grins.

This is going to be one _hell_ of a party.

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 _A little more than two years later_

"You-!"

Rin turns and blinks at the short, thin man pointing at him. "Me?"

"You're a demon!"

Rin frowns slowly at the man. He doesn't like being called out on that, and frankly, shouting it out in public is just _rude_. Lots of people have demonic heritage of some sort or another. He says as much.

" _Most_ people aren't sons of the Devil himself!" The man snarls, pulling an exorcist's gun from his holster.

Rin does the sensible thing.

" _GUN!"_ He shouts as loud as he can, bolting for cover. " _HE'S GOT A GUN!"_

The pandemonium that erupts is _instant_ \- people screaming and running for cover as the exorcist charges at Rin, shouting furiously. " _Demon!_ I'll _kill you!"_

Rin doesn't give him a clear shot, just keeps ducking around corners in the market, dodging between stalls as he shouts a warning to the civilians. Once he's out of sight, he ducks down and circles to get behind the asshole, who's still shouting for all the world to hear. All it takes is a nice shot from a taser (supplied by a kindly old stall keeper who tells him ' _do_ get that _awful_ man to stop yelling, will you dear? He's disturbing my dear Pansy') and the man goes down twitching. Her smile is missing three teeth when he hands it back to her, and Rin doesn't think she ever even moved, much less stopped petting her dog.

"Now what was all _that_ about?" One of the stall owners asks, scratching at his beard. "You do somethin' to this guy?"

"Hell, no," Rin snorts. "I try to stay _away_ from crazies."

"Good on you, son," the beefy man says, nodding his approval. "There's lots of folks as aren't that sensible."

A lot of the owners around here have taken a liking to Rin, and they've known him since he started going out after getting free. Their kindness really did a lot to help him recover from his imprisonment. He's never taken up the offer for _friends_ from the carpenter, though.

It doesn't take long for the police to arrive, take statements, and haul the guy off. Rin might have to show up at a trial, but he's done that several times already. It's no longer the same rush of terror that _they'll believe him they'll put me back in the lab I'm going to die_ that it used to be.

No judge has ever considered the idea that he _might_ be a demon out to destroy the world. Generally, when they look at his file (twenty-two years old, kidnap victim of insane cultists- it doesn't say much more than that) they give him a solemn look and say he's done damn well.

As he goes his way, he picks up some good meat and vegetables. Maybe they'll have a stir-fry tonight. Or stew, Yukio had mentioned last week that it'd been a while. Pie for dessert, definitely, but what about a side-dish? _Ooh,_ bacon wrapped water chestnuts!

Rin forced a grin and pushed back the fear that threatened to boil over. He would go start dinner, talk to one of the guys as he worked. Cooking had always helped cheer him up.

 **O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O**

Omake- set between Bon's befriending Rin and this chapter:

"Is everyone in their civilian clothes?"

Yukio eyes the group as they all nod. Not a one of them looks like a stereotypical exorcist. Good.

"I'm going over the rules one last time, just to remind you. If you hurt my brother, I will kill you. If you put him in danger, I will kill you. If you give him a panic attack, there's a very good chance _he_ will kill you- I suggest you don't give him a panic attack."

"Uh, what would give him a panic attack?" Izumi asks, looking distinctly disturbed.

"Good question," Yukio nods. "As Bon has found out, splashing him with water- even in play- will give him flashbacks. Don't even _think_ the word 'monster.' Try not to make sudden moves toward him. In short, stay calm, stay quiet, and stay polite. Rin does his best, but he was hurt badly and for a long time."

"What happened, if you don't mind telling us?"

Yukio frowns at Shima for a long moment, his lips pursed.

"Does blood make you who you are?"

"'Course not," Shima laughs, blinking at Bon. Bon glances at Yukio, who nods.

"Rin's got some demon blood in him, and when he was a kid some psychos got hold of him," Bon says grimly, and every face in the group pales.

"They _didn't."_ Izumi snarls. Shiemi looks like she's going to throw up, and Konekomaru is unsteady on his feet.

"They did," Yukio confirms. His face is pale and hard the way it always is when he thinks about Rin's imprisonment.

"Well, then," Shima breaks the silence, "It's a good thing he's got friends watching out for him now, isn't it?"

And they all grin at each other, fire in their eyes as they form an unspoken pact.

When they reach the little church where Yukio was raised, the guys clap Rin on the shoulder and the girls give him quick hugs as they enter, grinning at his surprise.

"You ever have a problem, you call one of these guys," Bon says looking him in the eye and jerking his thumb at the group behind him. Every single one of them gives him a firm nod. Konekomaru hands over a slip of paper with all their phone numbers on it.

Rin gapes at them, and Yukio nods when he looks over.

"You-?" He asks hoarsely, and Bon shrugs.

"They're good guys, Rin," he says. "I trust them with my life."

Rin glances warily at the group, pulling cups and chips and sodas from plastic bags as Shima and Izumi argue over what movie to watch (it's between _Space Jam_ and _Princess Bride)_ , and then he grins and relaxes.

When Rin knocks Shima for his bad taste and declares they're watching _Men in Black_ two seconds later, that's when Bon and Yukio finally grin at each other. This was probably the best idea they've ever had.

 **O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O O.O**

 **Questions, comments, and suggestions for futher fics (BlueEx or otherwise) are welcome. Feel free to PM or leave a review.**


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